


heartbeat running away

by gigi_originally



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Peter Pan & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Drug Dealing, F/M, Peter Pan is a Little Shit, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 03:11:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigi_originally/pseuds/gigi_originally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not your typical Coffeehouse AU in which Wendy has Daddy issues and Peter deals in the unsavory. Hell, this is almost canon.</p><p>Only two drinks mentioned by name and neither are a metaphor for the people who ordered them. Oh my.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [naessas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/naessas/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Co-queen!

The first time Wendy Darling steps into Coffee Hollow, it is because of a boy. Tinkerbell had met a guy in one of her Law classes who plays in a band that frequents the little cafe. True to its name, the large café is decorated to look like a forest; the decor all earth tones and living plants. Stunning photography papers a feature wall with a breathtaking view of some forest Wendy is sure more worldly people would be able to identify. It's cozy and unique and whimsical, almost juvenile. Deep inside, some part of her loves it.   

The place is a little packed when Tink and Wendy get there. This guy's band, The Lost Boys, is a bit of a treat and Wendy's curiosity is peaked. Felix, the tall blonde that picks Tink out of the crowd and comes over to talk to her, is quite lovely. He wears a long scar down his thin face but it adds character. He talks in low tones to Tink for a while and Wendy, wanting to give them a chance, wanders toward the counter to order.  

The girl at the counter is absolutely gorgeous, her olive skin and long dark hair making everyone in the vicinity look like a pale imitation of pretty. She wears a nametag that identifies her as 'Lily' and the visible portion of her right arm sports a fearsome tattoo of a tiger. She takes Wendy's order for an iced hibiscus chai with a smile that makes the blonde girl blush.   

A small while later Wendy discovers that the Lost Boys play an odd, enchanting type of music that she can immediately tell is popular with the hipster crowd. They use a strange collection of instruments and one guy sits off to the side of the stage with his face obscured by a large hoodie. He plays the pan flute and, occasionally, the theremin. By the end of the night, Felix has earned himself a date and Wendy goes back to her flat with a haunting melody stuck in her ear. 

 #  

She winds up stopping by the shop again because the tea really was delicious and the place is well-situated in terms of her route to and from university. When she goes in this time, the café is almost completely empty and the staff is different. The boy behind the counter looks young, about her age, but there is an awareness about him that gives him the impression of being much older. He is also ridiculously attractive in a way that few people with such elfin features can be. Wendy usually likes masculine men but there is something about Peter's (she reads his nametag) face that draws her attention like never before. She is so distracted and flustered by her own reaction that when he asks her name, she gives him the whole thing. As in, all four: Wendy Moira Angela Darling.  

He cocks an amused eyebrow at her and smirks. She ducks her head and finds a spot as far from his line of sight as possible. Instead of calling her up, he brings her the drink with a napkin and a flirtatious wink. Wendy has no idea what to do with this, so she smiles and says thank you. With the growing influx of the afternoon crowd, he does not have the time to linger. On her cup, her whole name is scrawled in cramped, sharp letters. He spelt them all right too.   

She spends the rest of the day watching him from the corner of her eye. He wears the dark green uniform like a second skin. It goes well, she thinks, with the reddish-brown of his hair and brings out the green of his eyes. She knows his eyes are green because they meet hers multiple times over the course of her visit.  

#  

Felix, as it turns out, is Peter's best friend. And Wendy was right, Peter is her age. She never gets a definite answer on whether or not he attends their university. He looks like he would fit right in with his skinny jeans, leather boots, and chic waistcoats. Wendy thinks him oddly well put together for a guy. Even his shirts are crisply pressed and the sleeves are rolled up perfectly. She goes so far as to ask Tink if she was sure he was straight. Tink had laughed long and hard at that because, apart from being Felix's best friend, Peter is also his roommate.  

"If there's one thing I'm sure about with that guy," Tink tells her while still breathless with amusement, "it’s that he's straight."  

It does seem like a stupid question the more Wendy frequents Coffee Hollow. Peter tends to work the early afternoon shift and those are the hours Wendy is usually free from classes. She watches him, sometimes, when her essays and reading get too boring. Despite the fact that their best friends are a couple, she and he have not conversed beyond the basics of her orders in the café. Since that first day when he brought her drink to her, he has made no effort and Wendy is hardly the most forward girl in her university. Instead, she spends some days watching him flirt outrageously with all the prettiest patrons.  

Over time, she catches more than one phone number being exchanged. She learns that he has no preference really. He flirts as hard with pixie-like Aurora (Wendy's old flat mate from first year) as he does with the supermodel-esque Lily.  It takes very little time for Wendy to realize she was but a blip on his radar of amazing looking women. The knowledge makes her hate herself a little bit for nursing her little, superficial crush on him. She knows nothing about the boy really except that he is handsome, an obvious player, and wears confidence like armour.  

(Something in the back of her head that sounds like her father's stern voice warns her that a boy like Peter Pan can only be trouble. He's dangerous; he's got darkness seeping out of his bones. Wendy tells that voice that she  _likes_  it.)   

#  

Two weeks before Christmas break, the whole university seems to come down with a flu from hell. Wendy catches it badly because she has so much reading to do that she misses a lot of sleep. She stays in her apartment as much as she can, only dragging herself out into the world for classes and exams.   

One day with particularly nasty weather, she stops at the café because she realizes she forgot her key and Tink is going to be in class for another two hours. She wanders in looking, she is sure, like death barely warmed in a faulty microwave. Peter is working, of course; it is his usual shift. She meanders to the counter, tells him her order, and then drags herself to collapse on her favourite sofa. It never occurs to her, not until three days later and she is somewhat human again, that she had never gotten up to collect her order but it had been steaming in front of her every time she opened her eyes.  

(She had only paid for one drink.)  

#  

Papers and exams take up most of her time once she recovers but Wendy does find a chance to visit the café once more before going home for Christmas. She goes in when she thinks Peter will be working and, true to form, he stands behind the counter being absolutely ridiculous in his attempts with Aurora. A part of Wendy wants to warn him about the two very different but equally dangerous boys who have both decided that Aurora's affections are theirs. Killian has chatted up Tink more than once on drunken nights out but, while Phillip is lovely, Wendy likes the leather-clad bad-boy more.  

Aurora herself, while seemingly indulgent of Peter's attentions, firmly shuts him down when she is ready to leave. She greets Wendy with a bright smile as she passes on her way back to the door. When Wendy turns back to the counter, she expects Peter's eyes to be following the other girl's path along the outside of the shop. Instead, she finds them fixed firmly on her.  

"Hello," she begins in the usual way.   

Peter keeps his eyes focused on her, coolly assessing. It makes her squirm, heat building in the pit of her stomach. Eventually he asks, "What can I get you?"  

She shifts her weight from one leg to other and says, "Actually, I wanted to say thank you. For the last time I was here. I'm sorry about passing out on the sofa."  

He shrugs carelessly, scrawls something on a cup, and his hands start working automatically at something while he tells her, "You looked pretty out of it, darling. Nothing like your usual pretty self."  

The offhanded compliment really ought not affect her the way it does. She can feel the flush burning her cheeks and part of her delights in the fact that he remembered her last name. She is infinitely glad that he is busy with the machines that keep him facing the other way. He turns around just when she feels like she has gotten herself back under control. He hands her the drink he was working on and informs her with a wicked wink, "It's your usual. With extra whipped cream."  

She is so stunned that he remembers, even the whipped cream, all she can do is stutter out clumsy thanks and pay. She retreats to a corner with a tall table and settles in to read a little since she is there anyway. If her eyes rove over toward him more than usual, well, she blames it on the odd nickname he has written on her cup: Whipped Cream Wendy. She knows it would be a terrible thing to think that he is flirting with her via her coffee cup but, just maybe, he is?  

(Her father's voice roars in the back of her mind that she is a foolish, hopeless girl. She tell it that it's only a crush.)  

#  

After break, Wendy's schedule changes and she has fewer afternoons free. She still manages to stop at Coffee Hollow for the drinks she has come to love but she sees a lot less of Peter. Felix works the early morning shift most days and Lily the later one. One time, Killian was in there with a manager's badge on and Wendy had to do a double take. In retrospect, it explained a lot about Aurora's recurring presence.  

Early on a Wednesday afternoon, Wendy does find the time to stop by the café during Peter's shift. It is not a conscious decision that she makes  _because_  it is Peter's shift but rather, she makes the decision to visit the café and it happens to be his shift. Whatever the reason she settles on in the end, they all lead her to the same place: standing at the mouth of the small alley at the side of the café watching Peter sell something white and powdered to a shifty looking student for a hefty wad of cash. Something tells Wendy it was not confectioner's sugar.  

The buyer never sees her. He just turns on his heel and darts toward the opposite end of the alley. Peter looks her straight in the eye. There are traces of anger on his face still etched onto his face -- Wendy had paused because she heard shouting -- but he just shrugs weakly and heads back inside.   

Outside, in the chilly winter air, Wendy recalibrates everything she has ever thought about Peter Pan to include this new information. To her surprise, nothing really changes except that she now  _knows_ that he is dangerous rather than just believes it.   

Inside the café, she orders her drink from him as usual and refuses to blink at the way he watches her like he is waiting for her to flinch. She takes her usual seat and waits for him to call her name. This time, again, he brings the drink to her. She looks up and meets his gaze head on. His eyebrows rise partially in amusement, partially in pleased surprise.  

"You know, your friends don't give you enough credit," he tells her by way of greeting. "They all said you were straight edge."  

At that, Wendy outright laughs. Not that she has done all that much but she goes to university. She has always been open to adventure; she does not limit herself. it was a given that she would come into contact with recreational drugs. When she finally stops laughing, Peter is regarding her with a new, frank appreciation in his devastating green eyes.  

"I'm not the person everyone thinks I am," she says with a little, daring hint of flirtation in her tone.  

Peter raises a lazy, sexy eyebrow and replies, "Obviously. I've got to get back to work but I'll catch you around, darling."  

From that day on, if Peter fixes her drink, her cup reads 'Cool Whip Wendy.'  

#  

In the months after that little encounter, Peter starts to pay attention to her. It does not take the same form as his usual interactions with women -- he refrains from excessive flirtation and he actually talks to her about things. She learns a lot about him. They become a version of friends.  

He does, in fact, attend the university. His classes are all in the School of Music on the far end of the campus so it is not surprising that she rarely sees him around. He and Felix practically grew up in the foster system together; they are the only family each other has. He drinks more tea than coffee on his own. He really does think he is the best thing ever and there is something about that, something about him being an unrepentantly smug little shit, that curls in the pit of Wendy's stomach and makes her just the tiniest bit wet for him.  

Then there are the real surprises like that he loves to read. He appreciates many of the same authors that she does. He is very choosy about the music that plays while he is on duty because he plays music too. She learns that he was the guy on the pan flute in Felix's band that first night. He tells her the official name is 'Peter Pan & the Lost Boys' but no one acknowledges it but him.  

"But why the pan flute?" she asks one time as she leans against the counter and watches him mess around. The café is quiet, all the customers have been served and Peter is relatively free to talk to her.  

"Why not?" he asks. "Peter Pan plays the pan flute. It works, right?"  

She rolls her eyes at his logic  He turns around and looks her, leaning onto the counter so that the tips of their noses are nearly touching when she turns her head to meet his gaze. There is something in his eyes that isn't playful; it's hungry and it wants  _her_. It sends a thrill racing through her veins. They stay there like that for a moment. Wendy licks her lips and Peter's eyes flicker to her mouth. She thinks he might kiss her until Lily comes out the back, busy tying her apron around her waist. Peter does not move although Wendy jumps.  

"Just fucking kiss her," Wendy hears Lily murmur.  

She flushes scarlet. God knows she wants Peter to kiss her but, apart from his eyes, nothing else has made a move to signal anything more than friendship between them. Wendy refuses to make a fool of herself over this so she would rather wait. Besides, she could be making it all up in her head given the subtlety of Peter's specific attentions to her.   

Case in point, Peter swivels his head to watch after Lily and tells her, "I was explaining why I play the pan flutes."  

"Because it was that or a frying pan," Lily recites. It is obvious she has heard the story before.   

"A frying pan?" Wendy has to ask. Peter's grin is wide and genuine when it looks like he gets a willing audience for his story again. In the background, Lily groans and calls Wendy a lovesick, gullible idiot under her breath.  

 

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Infinite gratitude to [Taco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardenoftacos/pseuds/gardenoftacos) for the proof read at 4am.
> 
> Yes, title shamelessly ripped from Nicki Minaj's Superbass. I regret nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

The date happens by accident. That really is the most Wendy can say in her own defense. It starts like this:   

Neal has a friend who is also in one of Wendy's prose fiction seminars. She recognizes the guy's face even if his name escapes her memory. They meet up in a group outside the library and somehow, the details escape Wendy, she is left getting coffee with the guy, also known as Edward. In the distance, Tink shrugs helplessly because Tink, at least, knows what's been building in Coffee Hollow for the past few weeks. Tink knows how much Wendy wants Peter Pan so there is no way on earth this is a good idea.   

Still, Wendy is too polite to tell Edward to go to hell because he seems genuinely nice and interested in her. She decides maybe she can make a friend, talk about literature, and leave it at that. No such luck. The date quickly becomes the worst idea in history when he says he knows a place that serves great coffee. When Wendy steps off the bus, she almost turns and runs because she knows the only good coffee place that uses this particular stop is Coffee Hollow.   

She drags her feet like a spoiled child on the walk there, trying her hardest, in her own way, to get Edward to change his mind about the venue. She nearly comes right out and says that she hates their coffee but the lie is too slow on her tongue. Edward is holding the door open for her before she can really protest. When she walks in and looks up, Peter's surprised eyes meet hers across the distance. He frowns at her expression and she feels terrible. She only feels worse when Edward comes up behind her and places a hand high on her back.   

Ahead,  Peter's eyes narrow to slits and all the seeping danger she thought she was immune to comes pouring out of him. It shows in a combination of subtle things: the set of his shoulders, the tilt of his head, the shift in his stance, the tightness in his jaw. Wendy's breath hitches at the sight, her muscles  _tremble_ , and there is a sudden rush of moist heat between her legs. He should not be allowed to do that, she thinks as she approaches the counter; it isn't fair that he can have that effect on her.   

Edward pauses to examine the menu but Peter keeps his gaze locked on Wendy. Behind him, Lily nudges Killian to look in their direction. Wendy fails to notice but Edward does. He frowns and steps closer to Wendy's side, mistaking the tension for something other than what it is. She thinks she might see a flash of hurt in Peter's green eyes before he grits out a terse, "What can I get you?"  

Edward orders an Americano and Wendy is half-tempted to tell him not to drink it. It might be spat in. Or, given what she knows about Peter Pan,  _worse._ Then Peter turns to her like she is a stranger and any emotion she thought she had seen on his face has vanished. He looks at her the way he--. To be honest, it is the first time he has ever looked at her like this. Unemotionally, disconnectedly. Even when he was paying her no attention, there was still a spark of recognition in his eyes. Now, he looks at her like he has completely forgotten her existence and it  _hurts._   

She gives him her order, neglects to mention the extra whipped cream, and skulks away to a random table. Edward follows with a frown on his face. When he sits down opposite her, he tries to apologize for making her come here if she was uncomfortable with the staff.  She shakes her head with a dismissive smile and remembers her manners. She makes small talk with Edward and they have a lively discussion about their course texts.  

Halfway through a sentence, when Edward has made a particularly snide observation regarding one of the theories they are studying and Wendy is giggling behind her hand, Peter calls out her name. The sound barks awkwardly loud through the air and Wendy's back straightens immediately. Her laughter catches in her throat. Edward gets up, jaw set, and makes his way to the counter before she can move. When his back is turned, Wendy tries to compose herself. Peter Pan, of the heated looks and non-touches, will not ruin her social life because he feels...whatever it is he feels.  He has never made any gestures, never given her any real indication that he wants more than the friendship between them. In fact, he has said more than once that he is not the kind of guy who does relationships.  

When Edward returns, her drink still has extra whipped cream it but her cup just says 'Wendy', no flourishes. She supposes it could be worse. Edward's reads: E.D. If she was in a more charitable mood toward Peter, the immature joke would earn a roll of her eyes and maybe a quiet chuckle. Since he is being a dick to her and her friend, she chooses to glare at him across the length of the café whenever her catches her eye. He avoids her gaze most of the time but she feels his eyes, heavy and burning, on the back of her neck throughout the course of her stay.  

Peter's attention distracts her from Edward's conversation for the remaining time they spend in Coffee Hollow. The weight of his gaze keeps her shoulders tense and her smiles tight. It turns the whole thing into a worse mess than she expected it to be. It all comes to a head when Edward gets up to get them snacks. Wendy watches over the rim of her cup as Peter forces Lily away from the register so that Edward has to deal with him again. Both boys' stances are confrontational and while Wendy can understand Edward (this is his date, after all) Peter's equally aggressive, territorial posturing gives her pause.  

Wendy realizes, suddenly, that she needs help. She texts Tink, explains the situation and receives one paradigm shifting response:  _Peter's a possessive little shit and you're on a date in his café, on his shift. Of course he's jealous._   

By the time Edward comes back grumbling about the rude staff, Wendy has called it quits on the date. She makes a hasty excuse and leaves Edward at the table with his scones and fresh coffee. As she passes by the counter, Peter glares at her with his arms crossed and expression dark. She walks right by him. He can stuff his angry looks in the same orifice with his teasing and double standards.  

(In the back of her mind, her father's voice taunts her with a patronizing, 'I told you so.' She has to agree with it this time.)   

#  

After that disaster of a date, Edward texts her a sum total of once. The message is hardly an attempt to elicit her company again; rather he all but declares that she is obviously not over her ex so they would see each other around.   

Wendy is furious. Furious and hurt because how dare he? How dare Peter make her feel terrible and  _guilty_ for having a friend? Actually, scratch that. It was a date and she, as an independent single woman, is perfectly at leisure to go on dates with whomever she so chooses. So why does she feel like she cheated on him? Like  _she_ hurt  _him_?  

For the next few days, Wendy refuses to go back to Coffee Hollow. She spreads her days between the library, the student union café with their do-it-yourself beverages, and her apartment. She tries to ignore the tearing feeling in her chest, the one that wants her to march back to the café and lay into Peter for his behaviour, for his unwarranted jealousy, for his leading her on all this time only to turn around a claim her in some Neanderthal pissing contest with the first boy to work up the courage to actually ask her out instead of hiding behind a marble counter. There is another part of her, louder and more insistent but with less strength, that wants her to march into the café, grab his apron and make him kiss her; bring his mouth down to hers and pry an answer out of him with her tongue.   

In the end, she acts on neither of these impulses. Seven days later, she sits on her sofa feeling conflicted and foolish. Peter has gone completely silent on her. He had gotten into the habit of sending her snapchats of random things throughout his day and she feels foolish and weak-willed for missing them. She feels ridiculous for ever having been embarrassed about Edward in front of a boy who still parades girl after girl across his counter. She unlocks her phone for the millionth time and stares aimlessly at the screen. The idea of pretending to do something with it never crosses her mind so Tink walks in and finds her in just that position.  

When Wendy looks up, Tink's cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen, and her hair untidy. Wendy feels bad for a moment; she has been such a cockblock lately. Wendy can tell that Felix is different for her friend -- Tink has never before seemed so content, so settled in anything. Looking at the tall blond who, in his own way, exudes a different but similar danger to his best friend, Wendy thinks it strange that he would be the one to satisfy Tink's romantic heart. He does not appear gentle or indulgent but then again, what does Wendy know? The boy she wants is a drug dealing douchebag currently giving her the silent treatment.  

The frustration and anger at Peter --the little shit-- Pan boils over then and Wendy feels the tears as they begin to well up. She tries to hide them but Tink sees and drops onto the couch beside her. The great thing about having a best friend who knows your secrets, Wendy thinks, it not having to explain yourself. Tinkerbell wraps Wendy up in her arms and lets her cry on her shoulder.   

"He's an idiot," Tink says and Wendy nods fervently in her embrace.  

#   

Peter remains silent for the next few days and Wendy convinces herself she is the idiot, pining over a boy who throws a tantrum when she makes a new friend. Not that she and Edward are in any way friends. Neal had found her in the library and asked her what Edward meant when he said she was still hung up on some delinquent ex of hers from the coffee shop. As far as Neal knows, he is the only one of her exes within a ten mile radius of the university.  

"You can tell Edward to mind his own business," Wendy tells Neal firmly, being absolutely the most polite she can manage. She has already put up with enough from the boy she actually likes. Secondhand condemnation from a boy she had no intention of ever talking to is completely beyond the scope of things she is willing to entertain.   

"I did," Neal says with a hint of protectiveness. Their relationship had started in friendship and ended in friendship. Neal is like a brother to her now. And in the way that brothers have of meddling where they should not, he adds, "He said it was Pan, Wendy. I've heard of him; he's bad news."  

She rolls her eyes and starts packing her books up immediately. She is not going to talk about Peter anymore, not with anyone. Turning on her heel to face Neal, she kisses him softly on the cheek and tells him, "You don't have to worry about me, Neal. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."  

Neal's hand closes around her elbow as she makes to leave. When their eyes meet, his are filled with genuine concern that softens the edges of her ire. All he says is, "Don't get hurt, Wendy."  

As she walks away, she takes a deep breath and thinks, Too late.  

#  

The next time she sees Peter has nothing to do with Coffee Hollow. Wendy has been avoiding the café for some time now, both too angry and too scared to return. But the world is always smaller than you want it to be at the worst of times.   

She plans to meet Tink at the library to start essay prep over the weekend. Rain is pouring when three figures dash toward the shelter of the library's massive awning. Wendy recognizes Tink's signature green jacket and she supposed the long, lean figure with the arm around Tink's shoulders is Felix. She should expect it but it still surprises her that the third person is Peter. This is the first time she has ever seen him on campus.    

When she looks at him, he gives her a small nod of acknowledgement as greeting. It stings a little to be so easily dismissed after weeks of friendship that verged on something more. Wendy turns her eyes down to her boots to hide the flash of emotions (pain, anger, frustration) across her face. As the boys queue for entry, Tink shrugs apologetically for being late and whispers to Wendy that she had no idea Peter would be coming too. Originally, Felix was only supposed to walk Tink to the library and then head off but the rain cancelled his tennis plans.   

Wendy shrugs it off because there really is no helping the situation now. She feels ready to move past the tantrum and misunderstanding if Peter can still be her friend. She still cares for him despite herself. She wants to see him, wants to be around him even if means it hurts. It is stupid and masochistic and her father's voice in the back of her head sneers at her for her stupidity over a boy who acts like a spoilt three year old whose toy had to be shared.  

They settle quietly around an unoccupied table in a far corner of one of the upper floors. Felix takes the seat next to Tink leaving Wendy next to Peter. Her whole body tenses from his proximity. They have been closer, he has a tendency to lean into her space and make her blush, but this has nothing to do with shyness. This is tension pulled taut between them, words left unsaid and feelings unacknowledged in both ends. Peter, on the other hand, seems wholly unaffected. He pulls pages upon pages of notes in a familiar scrawl from his messenger bag followed by sheets of complex music Wendy's basic piano lessons never began to cover. It would be fascinating, if she was inclined to abandon all her dignity to watch him work. Eventually, he wanders off to retrieve two musty looking books from another floor and Wendy sets herself determinedly to her own books.  

An hour later, Felix stretches and breaks the monotony of note taking. Tink uncurls from her concentrated position beside him and they share quick glance and soft smile. It makes Wendy's heart flutter to see her friend so happy. Tink, of all people, deserves happiness for all she does to help and support others. Felix, despite his emotionally constipated foster brother, seems to be fully capable of expressing his feelings to the girl he likes. The thought brings a bitter taste to Wendy's mouth and she looks out the window to swallow it. When she turns back around, Felix and Tink have disappeared.  

"Where'd they go?" she asks automatically, forgetting that the only person left to answer her is the one staunchly refusing to speak to her.  

Peter shocks her by grumbling, "To fuck between the shelves, probably."  

She wants to be scandalized but she knows that there is more truth in his statement than anything. Still, she rolls her eyes at the coarse way he puts it. She mumbles, "You would say that."  

"What?" he snaps back immediately, almost eagerly, as though he had been waiting for the chance, "Don't tell me you wouldn't do the same if ED was here."  

He spits the other boy's name with such venom it reminds her instantly of what Neal had warned. Pan is a dangerous creature; Wendy has seen some of his dealings with her own eyes. But she feels no fear for herself in the face of Peter's  suddenly flaring temper. Instead, all she feels is the past week of resentment and hurt welling up inside her to meet it.

Her heads snaps toward him so fast her ponytails lashes her cheek. "Don't even, Peter." 

"Don't call you out on it?" he quarrels quietly, "Sorry, not my style." 

It hurts a lot more than she expected to actually fight with him. His words are pointed, aimed precisely to dig between her muscles and scrape at her bones. Behind her eyes, she can already feel the telltale tightness that threatens tears and she will not cry in front of him.  

"You're such a  _child_ , Peter," she throws back at him before leaving the table and striding toward one of the aisles. She chooses one that is deserted. She is furious with him and with herself for ever getting involved with him, invested in him. She knew, from the moment he started actually talking to her, that he was childish and self-centered and more than necessarily mean but this is the first time that he has unleashed that part of himself on her. She stops halfway down the aisle, well hidden from view of anyone, to breathe.  

"I'm not a child," Peter snarls low in her ear.  

She jumps, almost loses her balance, and catches herself against the shelf. Peter crowds her in, locks her into place with his mere presence. Nonetheless, she gives no more advantage. He has no right, absolutely none whatsoever, to be angry with her. 

"Creepy much?" she scoffs. 

He steps closer then and something shifts in the air between them. Wendy's breath catches somewhere around her adenoids. This close he is markedly taller than she and it makes her feel a little exhilarated by the implications. Peter leaves barely any space between them as he challenges her. 

"You like it," he tells her and his voice inflects in a way she has never heard before. It explains all those girls who swoon at the counter over him. "You like having boys follow you around, wanting you. You lead them on with your pretty eyes and sweet smile and  _then_ ," here his voice changes to something hard and accusatory, "you walk all over them on your way to the next foolish sap." 

At that, any attraction she was feeling submerges under a fresh wave of pure anger. She pushes closer to him, gets right in his face and declares, "I'm not  _you._ " 

His eyes flash dangerously with anger and an emotion even more hazardous to her, something remarkably similar to lust. Before he can reply she says in a harsh, half-choked whisper, "I'm not the one who flirts with every girl in the room even when there's already a heart in my hands." 

His eyes widen at that and they both still. His expression softens in degrees, wonder smoothing away the hard lines but leaving all of the intensity. His eyes flicker to her lips, the way they have so often before and, once again, Wendy's unteachable heart flutters at the thought that he might kiss her this time. He leans down, just a bit, head tilting left and, automatically, she matches him. 

She thinks she hears him breathe her name, feels the hot puff of his breath against her lips when a book cart rolls loudly by and an elderly librarian gives them a scathing look from the far end of the aisle. Peter steps back immediately, eyes wide and looking uncharacteristically flustered. Wendy licks her lips but he takes off down the aisle, long legs carrying him rapidly out of sight. 

When Wendy gets back to the table, Tink and Felix have returned and are talking in whispers. They stop when they meet her eyes.  Peter's things are gone. 

For once, her father's voice is silent in her head. She doesn't need him to tell her what she already knows: She's a stupid, foolish, uncareful girl and now she's gone and gotten her heart broken.  

 

 

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Co-Queens are fucking beasts to put up with all my grumbling. I love you both <3
> 
> Also, yes, Peter did write Edward’s name as the abbreviation for “erectile dysfunction” >.>


	3. Chapter 3

Mulan, a lovely Asian girl Wendy knows is secretly in love with Aurora, throws a house party two nights after the library incident. House parties, in general, are far from Wendy's preferred entertainment but she feels reckless and restless and rebellious so she gets dressed and heads out with some of her other friends because Felix has stolen Tink away for some romantic, seven-month anniversary thing. The two are sickeningly sweet sometimes, their relationship so easy and smooth it seems unnatural to Wendy whose previous relationships have all exploded in her face. She envies them, now more than ever. Still, she wishes them the best because her nature is such that she wants all her friends to be forever happy and safe. 

She goes out because she needs a distraction. There are memories in her head she wants wiped, at least for a night, faces she would rather not think about. She dresses to get fucked; tiny black shorts, a top cut to kill, and heels almost too high to be practical. She feels gorgeous when she steps through her door and her waiting friends wolf-whistle heartily. The outfit is far from her typical fare but she wants to have a good night.  

The house Mulan shares with three guys is a typical university rental, two storied and narrow. The lower level is packed, the living room practically inaccessible. The kitchen is the only place with any standing room and she and Ariel find themselves squeezed into a corner of the counter being chatted up by two guys who look completely wasted and make zero sense. The girls are themselves pretty drunk. Then, suddenly, a vaguely familiar guy with bright blue hair whispers something to Ariel and Wendy is being pulled up the stairs for "real party favours".  

She almost trips on the stairs and laughs as she tells Ariel to slow down. The upstairs is unlit save for a single blue-tinted bulb at the far end of the jammed hallway. The guy's hair is fluorescent though so he is easy to follow even in the relative dark. He stops at the last door on the left of the hall and waits as they make their way through the mess of bodies and random furniture toward him. Wendy knows exactly what waits behind the door and wonders if she should try it this time. Ariel has always been the most...adventurous of her friends, always up to try anything new at least once. It is part of the reason Wendy knows to call the redhead when she wants a truly no-holds-barred good time.  

Before Wendy can make her decision, the door opens and closes on the girls. 

Inside, the room is pitch black; windows shut and covered, lights off. The space feels cramped and smells a little funny. A light suddenly bursts, white and piercing in the darkness. Ariel hisses loudly. Wendy squints at it, her pupils already dilated and sensitive to light. As her eyes readjust, she hears an achingly familiar voice state firmly, "Not her." 

She snaps her eyes in the voice's direction and, sure enough, across the room, parked right under the heavily draped window, is Peter is his big black boots. 

# 

"But  _Pan_ ," Ariel whines in a suddenly seductive voice, her luscious, enviable tones dripping with sweetness and promise. "You can't say no to  _me._ " 

All the bubbly innocence of Ariel disappears under the modus operandi of a true daughter of Triton. Every one of her six sisters can persuade any man to ruin with enough effort and Ariel, while generally nice enough to never need to use her particularly potent wiles, is no exception. The redhead takes a slow, graceful step toward Peter. The green and purple dress flows around her long pale thighs, the sway of her ample hips accentuated by the material's luxuriant fall. Ariel looks as though she is floating rather than walking and, even in the dark, the appreciative gleam in Peter's eye is noticeable.  

Wendy grits her teeth and clenches her fists at the display. She cannot blame Ariel -- the girl has no idea that Wendy even knows who Peter Pan is -- but she blames herself for the flash of anger, of jealous rage that courses through her blood. It must be the alcohol, she tells herself; it must be, because Wendy Darling is not naturally disposed to such violence. The urge to rip Ariel away from Peter's frame by the hair, to pry the other girl's limbs from around Peter's welcoming body with her nails, is so strong that Wendy finally turns away. The hypocrisy of the whole situation is too much to handle. She wants out of the room but she refuses to leave her friend alone with the Pan. She knows Peter, not Pan. 

As Ariel's alluring murmurs continue, her lips pressed close to Pan's ear, Wendy watches the knowing slide of one of his palms up the redhead's back. It disappears under the curtain of her hair then she gasps. Her head tilts back, obviously under Peter's hold, and she laughs. It is a deep, provocative sound that Wendy knows she can never reproduce. In the corner of the room, the blue-haired boy shifts uncomfortably. There is a flash of something in Peter's eyes that, if directed at her, Wendy knows would make her knees tremble. Now though, his eyes rake hungrily over the flesh exposed by Ariel's low neckline and Wendy's stomach turns. 

Whatever Pan whispers to Ariel is too soft for Wendy to hear over the pervasive music that reverberates through the walls. What she can see is the way Ariel's eyes light up, her grin falling easily back to her regularly delighted expression. But there is also the sensuous slip of Ariel's hand down Peter's torso, the way her fingers tease at his belt buckle as she wriggles off his lap and onto her knees.  

# 

Peter cuts a line with expert precision despite the lack of light. Ariel's blue-haired friend holds his phone close to the nightstand's surface and Ariel practically bounces with anticipation on the floor beside him. Peter works white powder into three neat rows before handing Ariel a crisp sheet of paper. Wendy can hear it crinkle from her perch on the edge of the bed. Her hands are fisted in the rough cloth of some stranger's bed sheets as the stranger wearing Peter's face sells drugs to one of her best friends.  

At least, she thinks, he had the decency to postpone the promised blowjob. Maybe it will follow the drugs. 

Ariel ducks her head and inhales sharply. Wendy jumps and, over her friend's bent head, Peter finally meets her eyes. He looks stone cold sober and that, in a way, is more frightening than if he had been high. His eyes are dark and she cannot read them. His face is more shadow than features and Wendy hates herself, just a little bit, for finding him still so attractive. 

(In her head, her father's voice screams at her to leave, get out and never speak to him again. Peter is bad people to the core. There is nothing there to like. But the always-rebellious part of Wendy begs to differ.) 

The lazy command he has of the room is magnetic. It is why she still has not left despite her anger, her jealousy, her nerves. In this little room of darkness and vice, he holds court like a king. He makes the low windowsill a throne with just the drape of his legs. He hands out drugs like wishes granted to paupers even when the one on her knees before him is herself a veritable princess. Wendy is nothing but a girl, just a girl from a good family in London, and she has no place in his world of excesses and liberties. 

No wonder he doesn't want her, she thinks. 

"Wendy, come on!" Ariel cheers, eyes already wide and grin bigger than before. She gestures frantically with her rolled up paper.  

For a brief moment, Wendy listens to her father's voice and really weighs her options. She has been recreational before but only with weed. This would be her first time trying anything harder. And there is a part of her that screams -- in her own voice, no other -- that she will not kneel before Peter-fucking-Pan for a hit. Never in her life. 

Her common sense deserts her when Peter opens his mouth. His voice is light, taunting but there is a note of something harder, almost warning, as he says, "I didn't know you were into these kinds of sprinkles, Whipped Cream." 

Ariel's head swings back and forth between them so quickly Wendy fears she will give herself whiplash. Then, part-amused, part-horrified, Ariel laughs out a disbelieving, " _You're_ Whipped Cream. Oh my God, Wendy, I had no idea."  

Wendy blinks, confused. "What?" 

"Shut up," Peter growls. 

Ariel shrugs, bends her head to the table again and does her remaining lines. She stumbles back onto shaky legs and the blue-haired boy is there to catch her. She rights herself with little effort, looking suddenly elated, and fixes her gaze on Wendy. Her friend keeps a hold of her hips and Wendy wonders, not for the first time, what their relationship actually is.  

"I," Ariel declares, "am fucking  _impressed,_  Ms. Darling. I didn't think you had it in you." 

Then she winks and hauls the boy behind her out the door.  

# 

The relative silence that descends is deafening. Wendy wants to ask what the fuck that was about but, at the same time, thinks she is probably better off not knowing. Peter Pan has discovered more ways to break her heart in under fifty words than she ever thought possible.  

She rises from the bed and makes to leave when Peter is there at her back, hands around both of her elbows and breath hot against the shell of her ear. His grip is harsh and Wendy realizes that this -- this is the most he has ever touched her. Despite their weeks upon weeks of friendship, despite what ever had almost happened in the library, this is the most his hands have ever been on her and his touch  _burns_. She is far from surprised. Yet, she forces herself to still but does not relax. The danger about him, the darkness he exudes, is practically tangible. As much as it makes her quiver, it also makes her quail. This is Peter and this is Pan and she has never dealt with both. 

"What?" she snaps, because she feels cornered.  

His hands tighten on her flesh and she likes it just a little more than it scares her. He still has that edge in his tone, that warning when he says, "Don't get mixed in up in this, Bird." 

'Bird' is too familiar, too intimate, given what he was just doing and she adds her irritation with that to her growing stockpile of reasons to be completely pissed at Peter Pan. He had started calling her that one windy day when she had been practically blown through Coffee Hollow's doors. He said she looks like a dove, all white and gray and fluttering. He had made her blush with a smile and wink that she can barely imagine on the face of the boy behind her. He had  _played_  her, so well; she can barely contain the humiliation. She wrenches herself out of his grasp and turns on him.  

"You don't get to tell me what to do," she snarls, finger jabbing hard against his solar plexus and pent-up anger surging forward into sentences. "You absolute hypocrite, you don't get to tell me  _anything_. I have to stand here and watch one of my  _best friends_ practically give you a fucking lap dance for a hit and I can't get coffee with one guy? Are you fucking kidding me, Pan?" 

He scowls, his teeth a white slice in the darkness, and retorts tightly, "No, I'm not fucking kidding you. I'm just trying to fucking protect you." 

It is unbearable this smug double standard he has; she will not be subjected to it. 

"I don't need you to  _protect_  me," she argues right back. "I already have a father, two brothers, and a brain between my ears, thank you very much, Peter Pan. You and your protection can go jump off a cliff. All I wanted--"  

Her voice catches because her anger is being overtaken by her despair. She will not cry in front of him. She will not. She takes a step away from him but he catches her wrist.  

"What?" he insists and there is something like a plea in his voice. "What did you want? Tell me and let me -- Fucking hell, Wendy, I can't watch you get hurt." 

She hardly means to do it but she laughs at him (if it is a watery, wobbly sound, neither of them mention it). "Ha! You can't -- Oh my  _God_ , Peter can you even hear yourself?  _You_  hurt me more than anyone!" 

"Now you know how I feel!"  

It comes off smoothly, as easy as a childish retort, but the meaning is anything but lost. Wendy stares at him because this -- this is more explicit than what he said in the library. Trust Peter to come out with his closest approximation of truth in the most immature way. She nearly snorts when the thought occurs to her but she holds it in, much the same way she has come to hold in so much of what she feels for Peter. Across the distance, he fidgets uncharacteristically. 

"Bird--" he begins but he is cut off by the shrill wail of a siren. His eyes widen as his grip on her wrist tightens. "Shit." 

"Come on," he says and starts toward the window. There is it again, that effortless command he can just throw about. She wants to turn and walk out like a normal, innocent party-goer but she is in the clutches of the guiltiest boy in the house. She lets him drag her over to the window, watches as he rips the curtain down (it had been a blanket all along), and pushes it open to reveal the rickety fire escape on the outside. The air outside is cold and refreshing, a stark contrast to the almost stifling warmth of the room. He clambers out first; his hand leaving a warm band on her skin in its absence, then turns back to her and holds out his hand. 

"Trust me, Wendy. Please." 

She takes it. 

# 

They run. They run with the wind in their faces and danger nipping at their heels and it is utterly exhilarating. They book it down the street and around corners, through alleyways and across medians. It is not an easy task in her impractical heels but Peter keeps a firm hold on her hand. He steadies her when she wobbles, backs up and catches her when stumbles. His lead is confident though and he does not go anywhere she cannot follow.  

Wendy has a vague idea of where they are headed -- their little university town is hardly large compared to the maze of her native London. They slow half-way down a hill on a street that she recognizes as part of her bus route. They are a corner maybe two away from Coffee Hollow, well away from the party for sure. The street is deserted in the early morning hours and it is feels like only the two of them exist in the whole world. Peter stops in the middle of the sidewalk and braces his hands on his knees as he catches his breath. Wendy leans heavily against a lamppost.  

This must be the stupidest thing she has ever done. She knows he has drugs on him, she is mostly pissed at him for various reasons, but she still took his hand and fled from the police. What on earth is wrong with her? It must be the risk, she thinks. She has always been a sucker for an adventure and Peter is most definitely an adventure from an entirely other world. An alien who wears green ironically. The giggles come softly at first then all at once. She throws her head back and laughs from deep inside. For all that tonight should be counted an absolute disaster, it is the most fun Wendy has had in months.  

With the back of her hand pressed against her lips, she gets back on her feet. She takes two steps forward before glancing over at Peter. She is finally able to see him properly in the bright street lights and remembers, at least aesthetically, exactly why she likes him so much. He is dressed in shades of black and dark, dark green. It brings out the vibrancy of his eyes, the natural highlights in his hair. Peter is gorgeous but, even so, Wendy knows she is not that superficial. Then he looks up at her and there it is.  

His eyes are intense; their focus so completely on her she feels herself flush more despite the chill.  Abruptly, she becomes aware of all the muscles in her body. Her smile freezes in place on her lips. He unfolds from his hunched position, expression suddenly set with determination, and closes the distance between them. He presses his palm flat against her stomach and walks her backward until the cold of the metal post shocks her spine into a shiver. 

"You're so fucking perfect," he says.  

Then, Peter tilts his head and, finally  _finally_ , their lips meet. 

# 

When Wendy thought about kissing Peter (which had been often, to tell the truth; his mouth is sinfully distracting) she had imagined something soft and lingering, seductive and flirtatious. The reality is a very different combination. 

Peter's kiss is a domineering thing, more bite than seduction, but it sparks something inside her that she recognizes immediately as arousal. He controls the kiss from the outset and she likes that. He coaxes her mouth open with his tongue and she lets him inside, moaning helplessly at the way he devours her, the way he makes sure to taste every part of her. Everything around them disappears as Peter holds her tight to his body, arms wrapped like around her like vines, and she clutches desperately to the cloth on his back. 

When they break apart, Peter does not let her go. Not that she minds, really. Wendy's sight is a little unfocused, her knees weak. She stays upright between Peter and lamppost. Never before has she been so thoroughly kissed that her balance is precarious on solid ground. Her lips ache pleasantly and her neck feels slightly overextended. She is engulfed in Peter's unique smell, some classy cologne and a hint of coffee, and he looks at her like she is all there is in his world. That regard alone is more intoxicating that anything else. 

"You're beautiful," he murmurs. 

"You too," she breathes. Then she blinks because, true as it is, she does not think she was supposed to say it quite like that. 

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Tami and Yasmin for the best beta input ever.


End file.
